


Surviving is Hard Enough

by BrainlessIntelligence



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Based on my college experiences, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), But he grew up and changed, Characters to be added, College Student Keith (Voltron), College Student Lance (Voltron), College student Pidge (she skipped a grade or something idk the gang's all here), College student hunk, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Eventual Fluff, Eventual Hunk/Shay, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Eventual Relationships, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk and Pidge are in band, Hunk is Keith's roommate, I love Hunk and Pidge so much, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Keith will get dragged in, Keith writes Shiro letters, Laith, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance helps Keith with self-care and self-love, Lance is in theatre too, Lance used to be a bully, Lotor shows up later, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Please give them more love, Professor Coran, Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Shay is also in band, Shiro is in the Air Force, Sorry Keith, allura is a cheerleader, klance, so is lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessIntelligence/pseuds/BrainlessIntelligence
Summary: Keith liked to complain about Shiro’s nagging, but, well — he was often right, wasn’t he? After all, while most of the other freshmen were out enjoying themselves and doing whatever college students did on a Wednesday night, Keith was sitting alone in dull lamplight, forging a letter evenhewouldn’t want to read.OrLance McClain, the very guy who once made Keith's life a living hell, might just be the person who understands him the most.





	1. Silence is all we dread.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece I've been writing to vent / understand some things. I hope you enjoy it, or it's otherwise helpful to you as it's been to me.
> 
> "Silence is all we dread.  
> There's Ransom in a Voice -  
> But Silence is Infinity.  
> Himself have not a face." - Emily Dickinson

It was almost seven, and Keith hadn’t moved from his position at his desk in hours. His back popped loudly in protest as he stretched his arms behind his back, then above his head; stretches he would normally do before working out now only prepared him for more sitting. 

Idly scratching behind his ear with a pen, he stared down blankly at the letter he’d begun hours ago to his foster brother, Shiro. Throughout his first week at college, the things he’d wanted to say to him had seemed endless. Now that he was actually sitting down to write them all out, the mental reservoir of one-sided conversation seemed to have dried up along with the ink. 

Groaning and abruptly muting his music, too frazzled for any distractions, he clenched his pen tighter in his fingers and forced himself to begin writing where he’d left off.

_While you’re getting to fly planes like some adrenaline junkie, the orientation week here for freshmen has so far consisted of lame group-building exercises and games. Like last night there was some city-wide scavenger hunt. Tonight there was a color fight._

Keith studied his words carefully. He didn’t want to lie to Shiro and say he’d actually been attending the events, but so what if his words could be… misinterpreted as such?

“Make sure you don’t just hole yourself up in your room,” Shiro had told him with a hand clasped firmly on his shoulder, searching out eye contact. “Don’t roll your eyes — I know how you are. I also know that even you get lonely. Make friends. Go to events. Explore campus life. Okay? And then tell me all about them.”

Keith liked to complain about Shiro’s nagging, but, well — he was often right, wasn’t he? After all, while most of the other freshmen were out enjoying themselves and doing whatever college students did on a Wednesday night, Keith was sitting alone in dull lamplight, forging a letter even _he_ wouldn’t want to read.

And that raised another problem; how was he going to choose an extracurricular for his scholarship when he never left his room, save for his classes? He’d never really been in anything in high school, unless you counted the time he’d joined JROTC and quit halfway through the semester. (That was because he maybe — _definitely_ — had a problem with authority, especially when the authority in question acted like a royal douche.)

Keith had elected to ignore his problems for a while and was microwaving a cup of macaroni-n-cheese when the door swung open and his roommate tumbled in, grinning and shouting plans at someone down the hall to “meet up at the caf in twenty.” Keith cocked a brow at his roommate’s disheveled and explosive appearance; the burly guy was covered head-to-toe in a kaleidoscope of brightly colored chalk. It dusted his dark hair pink and blue like cotton candy.

From the moment that his roommate had optimistically introduced himself by saying, “Hi, nice to meetcha! All my friends call me Hunk, so you can, too!” Keith hadn’t been sure what he’d thought of the guy. So far, Keith had ascertained that he was A - genuinely nice, B - easily nauseated, and C - a heck of a social butterfly (since he was hardly ever in the room). The latter didn’t bother Keith in the least; he didn’t have to worry about being judged for inactivity when the room was his.

And Hunk was a snorer.

“Keith! Buddy!” Hunk exclaimed as he finally fully entered the room, accidentally slamming the door behind him. “You missed all the fun. Is your head feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, touching a hand to his temple, guilt bubbling up at the evasive lie he’d given earlier when he saw the concern in Hunk’s eyes. Headaches were an excuse he had often used through the years to get out of anxiety-inflaming activities or events. Though he hadn’t intended it, the lights being off except for his desk lamp probably added to the lie’s credibility, and Hunk had left them off. “You can turn on the lights.”

“Ah, thanks, man.” Hunk flipped the switch and Keith turned back to his macaroni as Hunk began undressing with his back to him, slipping into some comfortable, and clean, clothes. “Hey, I meant to ask you…”

“Yeah?” Keith asked around a mouthful of plastic-like noodles.

“Not that I’ve meant to pry, but I notice you keep eating in here. And mac-n-cheese can’t be _that_ good.” Hunk threw a lighthearted chuckle over his shoulder. “I mean, sure, I guess it’s good, but it’s a bit early in the college game to start living off the stuff when you have a meal plan, right?”

Keith nervously swallowed the mouthful that had turned into thick paste on his tongue. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “I guess.” _Don’t ask don’t ask don’t ask don’t—_

“Well, some friends and I have been eating together at lunch when we can, and if you want, you can join us tomorrow.” Fully dressed in a pair of track pants and an oversized sweater, Hunk turned to grin warmly at Keith, who was struggling to maintain a neutral expression. “I’ll be in the room before I head down to the caf, so you can walk with me and avoid the craziness of your first time in there. It gets kind of packed.”

Keith groped around in his head to find an appropriate reaction to the offer. He knew that he didn’t want to accept, but he also knew that it would be incredibly rude to refuse when he didn’t have a single good reason not to go. Residents were required to purchase meal plans, so every day spent eating in his room was actually wasting money.

Keith’s eyes flickered over to the unfinished letter on his desk, then to the floor. _For Shiro._

Huffing a resigned sigh, he forced a small smile up at Hunk. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Hunk’s grin widened until he was positively beaming. Keith didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve such a smile — it was just lunch, after all.

Even if it felt more like he’d agreed to fight in a gladiator arena.

“Great,” Hunk said as he grabbed his wallet and keys and backed towards the door. “I’ll let my friends know you’ll be joining us. I’ll catch you later!”

“Later,” Keith said to the closing door. He stared despondently down at his now-cold macaroni and huffed again.

It was just one meal. He could get through that. And it _would_ be nice to eat something that didn’t come out of cellophane packaging. Speaking of which…

He tossed the half-eaten cup of macaroni into the trash.

“Adieu, cheesy plastic,” Keith said, saluting the trash can. “Adieu.”

Keith got a shower — gritting his teeth and holding his tongue when someone claimed the shower next to him and played their crappy music — and slid into track shorts. When he brushed his teeth, he avoided looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

He never liked what he saw.

It was early, but before Keith turned into bed he sat down at his desk to compose three more lines for the letter.

_I’m meeting up for lunch with my roommate and his friends tomorrow. If I need an escape I plan to just chug some milk and pretend to discover my lactose intolerance for the first time._

_I miss you, man._

***

Oh, God.

“Heh, I know there’s a lot of people,” Hunk said with an apologetic smile as he glanced at Keith out of the corner of his eye, “but Pidge and Lance already have a table saved, so at least there’s that.”

Keith just nodded silently and followed Hunk’s lead, scanning their IDs and then the room for Hunk’s friends. He caught sight of them at the wall lined with floor-to-ceiling windows and briskly took off, Keith at his heels, feeling like a lost puppy. 

He _hated_ that feeling.

Keith’s walk faltered as his eyes skipped ahead past his roommate to the table they were approaching. 

_No way._

He blinked and stared and blinked again at the lanky teen chattering away with the short girl next to him. His dazzling white smile contrasted heavily against his dark skin in an all-too-familiar way.

_There is no way that’s—_

“Hey guys! I brought Keith!” Hunk said with a grin as he took a seat. Keith still didn’t budge. The other two occupants at the table looked at him expectantly, and Keith saw confusion knit the latino’s brows together before his expression went lax with shocked recognition. He seemed stunned into muteness, so the girl took over with a heavy eye roll.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Katie, but everyone calls me Pidge, and the shameless flirt sitting next to me is Lance.” She jabbed him with her elbow. The boy jolted and glared at her out of the corner of his eyes as he rubbed his arm.

“We’ve actually met before, haven’t we?” Lance said, his tone sheepish. He fiddled with the strings of his blue hoodie, his eyes nervously meeting Keith’s own before flitting away.

Keith realized he was still awkwardly standing above them all, so he pulled out a chair and settled next to Hunk. “We have. Guess it really is a small world.”

“That’s so cool!” Hunk exclaimed, clapping Keith on the back harder than he intended. “You guys already know each other? Where from?”

“I was moving schools a lot when I was in foster care,” Keith shrugged, pretending to be interested in the table-top salt-and-pepper design. “I was at his school for a few months. I don’t really remember when.”

“Freshman year,” Lance said, quietly enough Keith wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. He stiffly nodded affirmation anyway.

“Well,” Hunk said, noticing and attempting to diffuse the tension in the air, “today’s lasagna day, so I’ll be back. You coming, Keith?”

Keith gladly accepted the excuse to abandon the table, even if it was only for a moment. His thoughts were a whirl of memories and emotions, but he stored those to sort through later after his second offense distractedly bumping into someone. 

After deciding against fighting the lines to get any of the daily meals, he instead grabbed a plate and loaded it down with tater tots and a burger. Then, reluctantly, he returned to the table without Hunk, who’d elected to brave the lines for his lasagna.

“So, Keith,” Pidge asked as he sat down, and he braced himself for a question about his and Lance’s past history — or worse, about his _major_ — but instead she only smirked and asked, “are you actually a vampire?”

Keith choked on a tater tot and Lance stifled a snort. “What?” he asked hoarsely, before taking sip of water.

“Hunk told us you never leave the room during the day, and usually leave the lights off when you’re alone. Plus you’re super pale, and dress kind of emo—“

“And the mullet,” Lance whispered before a bite of lasagna.

“And the mullet. Were you bitten in the eighties?”

“Pidge, are you being serious right now?” Hunk asked as he returned to his seat, shooting her a half-hearted glare as she merely wrinkled her nose in a facade of a wide, innocent smile. “I’ll have you know,” he said, rounding on Keith, “I haven’t been gossiping about you. I was just worried about your headaches and happened to mention them.”

“Though you never disagreed he might be a vampire,” Lance said before taking an innocent sip of Fanta.

“Well, I never discredit anything without proof.”

“Just wait a few years. Someone brings their car to you for repairs,” Pidge teased, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “you say, 'well I can’t say for certain, because I never rule anything out without proof, but it’s _probably_ not ghosts’—“

“‘I mean, I’m calling a priest just to make sure’,” Lance continued with the gag as Hunk sulked, “‘but rest assured, ninety-nine percent of the time ghosts aren’t even involved.’”

“You guys suck,” Hunk said, though there was no acid in his words. “That’s not even the type of mechanic I’m going to be. How about we turn this on you, ‘ _Loverboy Lance_ ’? Wanna discuss with the class what happened when you hit on the barista last night?”

Keith rolled his eyes and bit into his pizza. Seems Lance hadn’t changed much; he was pretty sure videos of Lance’s epic promposal fail to the homecoming queen freshman year could still be found online.

Lance’s face fell. He scratched at ceramic with a prong of his metal fork. “Not my fault she was too cranky to appreciate my charm.”

“As I recall, she wasn’t cranky before she was subjected to your charm in the first place,” Pidge snorted. “And don’t forget when you hit on the other barista ten seconds later. How did that turn out?”

“He… was her boyfriend,” Lance said with a cringe, stabbing at his plate and sinking down further into his chair in histrionic embarrassment. After a full few seconds of processing the sentence, Keith’s eyes widened in surprise. His eyes darted between Hunk and Pidge, noting the way their conversation didn’t skip a beat.

_He? …Oh._

As the others fell again into amiable conversation, Keith began to feel more-and-more out of place. He had nothing to add to the discussion; no funny jokes to make; nothing at all. Hunk seemed to notice and guiltily tried once more to bring Keith into the circle. 

“So Keith is on the same academic scholarship as us, and he needs an extracurricular. Any thoughts on what he should join?”

“Play an instrument?” Pidge queried. Keith shook his head. “Sporty? Good with computers?” Another negative. “Can you throw girls in the air and catch them? Shout through a cone?”

“I’d rather not,” Keith answered at the same time as Lance was whining, “that’s not _all_ I do!” Lance thought for a second and then blurted out, addressing Keith directly for the first time, “Hey, I know what you could do! Theatre!”

“What?” Keith blanched, cursing as ketchup dripped onto his denim vest. 

“No, seriously,” Lance continued, watching Keith dab at the spot with a damp napkin. “I think you’d fit in, if you tried, and if you didn’t want to actually act then you just do poorly in the auditions and become an understudy, or paint a tree, or something.” Lance shoved another bite of lasagna in his mouth and said around it, “Easiest thing there is!”

“Swallow before you run your mouth,” Pidge said with a disgusted roll of her upper lip. “But I’ve gotta agree that it’s the easiest answer.”

Keith mulled it over as he crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. _Don’t be a prick, Kogane._ “I’ll think about it.”

“Well, I’m going back for ice cream,” Hunk said, prompting Pidge to launch to her feet and zealously declare, “Same!”

“I think I’m gonna go ahead and head back to the room,” Keith said, collecting his cup and plate and standing. Hunk’s chipper expression faltered.

“Are you sure?”

Feeling a pang of guilt, Keith forced a smile and shrugged. “I’ve got a two-thirty I need to study for.”

“Aw, man. A test on your first week?”

“Quiz, but yeah. It’s just Coran.”

“ _Pfft_. Professor Coran is a trip,” Pidge cackled. “Good luck.”

“I’ll see you later,” Keith said, nodding as he backed away awkwardly towards the plate return, finally able to breathe once he was away from the table. As he was depositing his things onto the conveyor belt, he felt a light pressure on his shoulder. Jerking around, instinctively slapping at the touch, he came face-to-face with a startled-looking Lance.

“Woah, sorry,” Lance said, quickly shoving his hands into his pocket as if to keep them from committing another sin. He averted his eyes to the floor, an embarrassed tinge of heat coloring his cheeks. “I just wanted to apologize for — for the way I treated you back then, in high school. I was a real douche, I know.”

“It’s fine,” Keith said, turning to walk away, but Lance rushed on, stepping in front of him with with one wide step. Keith scowled and folded his arms.

“No, I know it’s not. I should’ve never said… any of the things I said to you. Or about you. I was just young, and a jerk, and confused.” Lance attempted a commiserating smile, finally meeting Keith’s eyes. “I’ve actually come out as bi since then, ha… Who would’ve guessed?”

“Well, as hard as you overcompensate, probably any psychologist, anywhere.” It was Keith’s turn to lower his gaze. His scuffed red Converse contrasted against Lance’s pristine navy Vans. “For real, forget it happened.”

“I can’t do that, and I doubt you will, either.” Lance shifted his weight from foot-to-foot uncomfortably. “But I still wanted you to know I’m sorry. Sincerely.”

“Apology accepted,” Keith ground out between clenched teeth. There was an awkward pause as neither of them moved or spoke, avoiding eye contact like a germaphobe with a handshake.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then?” Lance asked finally. “Since you’re Hunk’s roommate,” he quickly added, worrying the edges of his hoodie between his fingers. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Keith didn’t see the way Lance stared after him as he walked away, nor would he have cared.

This time, when he sat back down at his desk that night, he had no difficulty in getting his words flowing.

_You remember that hack from freshman year who was the reason I got outed? Guess who I just had lunch with._


	2. Patience and abundance of time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets a possible ally; he receives a letter from Shiro; Lance needs a lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm losing control of myself  
> I'm losing control of my mind  
> The only thing that I have left  
> Is the patience and abundance of time." - Edith SaintFelix

“Gum?”

Keith looked up from his messy notes, turning towards his table-mate. He was scruffy-looking in the “wannabe grunge” kind of way; it was apparent from his designer black jacket and expensive kicks that he came from money.

The guy impatiently raked through his loose platinum hair with his free hand and shook the stick of gum held between his forefinger and thumb in Keith’s direction. “Well?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Keith said, accepting the peace offering as he watched the guy shuck and pop his own gum into his mouth.

“No problem. It’s just my payment in advance for when I cheat off your paper on this quiz.”

Keith snorted and returned his attention to his notes. “Thanks less.” 

A chuckle and the rustle of paper. “I’m kidding, of course. There’s nothing to be gained in the long run from cheating.” Keith quizzically glanced from the hand now extended towards him up at to face. “I’m Lotor.”

Keith hesitantly took Lotor’s proffered hand in a firm grip. “Keith.”

“Alright, clear your desks,” grunted Professor Iverson as he whipped tests down on desktops with an aggressive _slap_ accompanying it every time. “I don’t wanna hear a peep out of anyone while pencils are still scratching.”

Lotor rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly and smirked at Keith, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Keith responded with a wan shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips as well.

_He doesn’t seem so bad._

***

 _Knock knock knock._ “Hunk.” _Knock knock knock._ “Hunk, it’s _me. Keith._ Your — _I am your roommate._ ”

“He’s in band.”

Keith nearly got whiplash whipping around towards the voice. Lance was standing a few doors down from Keith, watching him with an amused expression. “Lance? Are — are you stalking me?”

“Um… no?” Lance gestured with a bob of his head towards the keys he was currently inserting into the lock. “I think I’m just locking up my room. How do I know _you’re_ not stalking _me_?”

Keith huffed and kicked at the door with a scuffed shoe, leaving a dark smudge. He knew Lance was jesting, but he wasn’t in the mood to play along. “I don’t have any keys to prove this is my room since I left them _in_ the fricking room.” Hunk’s classes didn’t start until an hour after Keith’s eight AM, so Keith had left the door unlocked when he’d left that morning. His keys were probably still sitting where he’d tossed them on the microwave last night.

“That sucks.” Lance clipped his keys to a belt loop with a blue carabiner, shouldered his backpack, and sauntered over like an old friend. Keith closed his eyes to disguise his silent protest and folded his arms over his chest as if guarding himself. “Well, you’ve got two options. You can go get an RA to unlock the door for you and eat your sad mac-n-cheese,” Lance said, mimicking a cringe as he added, “making him hate you…”

“Super. The RA already loves me,” Keith groused. An incident with the first room check turning up illegal knives had already resulted in discourse with the housing staff.

He _dared_ one of them to try and seize the dagger hidden under his mattress.

“Or…” Lance grinned widely at Keith and straightened up to his full height, “you can enjoy another fine meal in the cafeteria with _moi_ and wait for Hunk.” He jabbed a thumb to his chest and waited expectantly with a cocky smirk.

“Or, third option,” Keith deadpanned, “I could eat in the caf by myself.”

Lance looked taken aback, smile dripping away like wax, though he was quick to recover. “True… But I asked, and… I can show you how to make a bootleg iced coffee with milk and espresso!”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Dude, please. I, Hunk’s friend, am trying to extend a hand of hospitality to you, Hunk’s roommate.”

Keith bristled. Did Lance really expect him to just hold his hands and sing _Kumbaya_ after their history? In his younger days, Keith had decked guys less pretentious.

“Funny,” Keith said, shoving his hands in his pockets and proceeding to walk away, knowing the latino would be close behind. “I could’ve sworn you were hoping to make yourself feel better by making nice with the kid you bullied in high school.”

Lance whistled as he matched strides with Keith. “Okay, roasted. But also, I just really hate eating alone—“ A rare moment of seriousness. “—After all, I can’t hold back the hordes of my adoring fans by myself.” Ah. “Seriously, though, I can tell you more about the theatre audition, if you want?”

Keith weighed his options. “This once and you’ll feel good enough about yourself to leave me alone?”

Lance grinned. “Is that a yes?”

Keith didn’t answer; his eyes were on the elevator, where the Resident Assistant was just now disembarking with impeccable timing.

“Hey,” he called quickly, ignoring the eyes boring into the side of his head, “I’m locked out of my room. Can you let me in?”

The RA’s chest visibly expanded in an exaggerated, annoyed sigh. “Yeah. What room number?” He stepped back into the elevator to retrieve the proper key from the lockbox downstairs. Keith was still deliberately avoiding looking at Lance.

“Two-twelve.”

“Be right back.” The doors closed on the RA and Keith and Lance were left in an awkward, tense silence.

“I’m getting the feeling that wasn’t a yes,” Lance said with an attempt at indifference; but the blush rising in his tan cheeks belied his flustered feelings. Keith was buffeted by a tidal wave of regret.

“Sorry, I just saw he was already here—“

“No, no. It’s fine.” Lance toed the carpet. “I don’t blame you.” With mechanical movements, he pulled a folded square of paper from his hoodie’s pocket, abruptly holding it out to Keith. “This has everything you need to know about theatre auditions on it.”

“Th-thanks.” Keith took it slowly, carefully, like he was playing a very tense game of Operation; then he shoved it into his pocket without glancing at it. “Listen—“

“No, it’s okay.” Lance flashed him an apologetic smile devoid of teeth. “I’ll try to take the hint this time.”

“Look, let me just grab my keys when the RA gets back and I’ll go eat with you. I was acting like a—“ Lance cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Really, it’s cool. I’ll see you around.” Lance nodded to him and then pushed open the door leading to the stairwell.

It wasn’t until the clang of the door closing behind Lance jolted him into movement that Keith realized he’d been guiltily staring after him.

Keith decided to skip lunch altogether that day.

***

Days passed, seeming in the moment to drag on indefinitely, but at the same time disappearing too quickly into the past where memories were laminated as they were. His existence, itself, was becoming a surreal, out-of-body experience; he had no goals or passions or reasons for being. He felt like a NPC in a video game, unimportant to the plot and having no distinct programming of its own; and sometimes he felt like he wasn’t a human at all, but merely a mechanical body with none of the warm things inside that made it a person.

 _Wow,_ Keith thought. _That is kind of emo._

At least when he’d been having anxiety over coming out, he’d felt _something._ Now he was just blasé — pathetically apathetic. Worst of all, he didn’t know why. Sure, he was alone, but he had been plenty of times before. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t his fault that he had no friends. He’d been a prick to Lance, and he’d rebuffed Hunk’s invitations so many times with shallow excuses that Hunk had finally stopped asking him places. 

When Keith was having to dodge Hunk’s invites, Keith had only wanted him to stop. Now that Hunk had given up, though, Keith realized how good it felt just to have someone care enough to ask.

Keith’s entire world consisted of four cinderblock walls and a routine so rigidly boring that he began to envy the freedom of the sugar ants that appeared sometimes on the windowsill. He only left the dorm for class; the other nineteen-and-a-half hours were spent in bed sleeping his life away or murdering his back at his desk for no good reason. The days he woke up and just couldn't get himself to go to class were the only departures from regular programming, and even those mornings were becoming common. He had no motivation to do the things he’d used to enjoy; which also meant doing simple tasks, like laundry, or eating, or finishing homework, sometimes became nearly impossible for no good reason.

He told himself he was just becoming lazy, though he knew that wasn’t the reason at all.

The worst part of it all was that, in all that painful, self-reflecting silence, Keith could see himself losing his grip on the reins. He could see it every time he neglected his own health by skipping meals, every time he slept just to put more time behind him, every time that heavy weight on his chest just _wouldn’t let him get out of bed_ —

He was spiraling, but Shiro wasn’t here to help him anymore.

Maybe that’s why, when he’d stopped the box office Tuesday morning his heart had leapt to see a letter waiting inside his PO box.

***

_Keith,_

_It’s only been an hour or two since I last saw you, but I’m writing you a letter now in case there’s not enough time back on base. I hope you haven’t dropped out by the time this letter reaches you, or it’ll be awkward when I say how proud I am of you. You don’t think it’s a big deal, I know, but I do — and big bro code says I get to brag on you, so deal with it._

_(The guy next to me is snoring so loudly that I can’t tell if the plane is shaking from that or turbulence. I wish I was exaggerating.)_

_Anyway, I don’t have a whole late to say since I already got all of the important stuff out of the way when you saw me off at the airport, but I’ll reiterate it here for you say you can’t say, “Oh, Shiro, you never told me clubbing on a Wednesday night was a bad idea!” Yes, yes I did. And now it’s on paper. I can prove it in a court of law._

_But seriously — here’s some “words of wisdom” from a guy who’s already survived the gauntlet._

_#1: Don’t underestimate the importance of sleep. Napping in broad daylight is totally acceptable. #2: Try to avoid taking eight AMs. You probably think you can handle them since high school started even earlier, but trust me. It’s different in college. The gravity is stronger getting out of bed in the morning or something._  
#3: Befriend an upperclassmen. They’re the ones who know the good teachers, the best local places to hang, and how to sneak food out of the caf. (In my first week at Uni an upperclassmen taught me how to sneak an entire gallon of milk out of the caf.)  
#4: Finally, don’t say no to everything. There is a such thing as playing it too _safe, and you’ll never grow as person or meet new people if you don’t try new things. College is about getting your degree, but it’s supposed to be enjoyable, too. Don’t forget that your happiness is important! (I can almost see you rolling your eyes at that, but I’m serious.)_

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_That’s all I’ve got for now. Looking forward to hearing about your first week! Take care of yourself._

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_—Shiro_

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“Is that a note from your boyfriend?”

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Keith glanced over at Lotor, refolding the letter and slipping it into his pocket. “Brother.”

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Lotor nodded absently to himself and continued tracing the lettering of his own name on his binder with a black sharpie. “That’s the second time you’ve read that thing. You must miss him dearly.”

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“Yeah.”

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Lotor fished a pack of gum out of his pocket, holding a stick out to Keith like a cigarette to a lighter. “I don’t have anyone to miss,” he said flippantly as Keith took it, “but I’ve got people I hang around now that I think you would fit in with.”

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“People that I would fit in with? Who,” Keith snorted, “grungy rejects?”

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“Yeah.” Keith stared, arching a quizzical brow. “Mincing words gets you nothing.”

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“I guess.”

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“I’m the same, anyway, so I wouldn’t consider it an insult.” Lotor shot him a smile that bordered on a smirk. “What do you say? Want to crash a party Saturday night?”

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“I’ll have to think about it.” Parties tended to exhaust Keith. And anyway, he already had plans for Saturday night.

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Okay, so maybe those plans were to binge Netflix and laze about in his boxers while Hunk was gone. They were still _plans_ , dang it.

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“Well, when you decide,” Lotor said, flattening his empty gum wrapper on the table and pressing his marker to it, “let me know.” He slid it over, and Keith stared at the ten digits scrawled in sharpie.

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“I will.” 

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He slipped the number into his pocket along with Shiro’s letter.

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It was nice to be wanted, at least.

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***

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_Knock knock knock._ “Hunk?”

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Keith turned in his chair to face the door as it swung open to reveal none other than Lance. Clad in a bedraggled blue hoodie and skinny jeans, he looked disheveled and uncomfortable and sheerly exhausted; there were bags under his eyes and his nose was red and raw.

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“Oh, sorry,” he said a thick voice after a quick scan of the room turned up only Keith. “Hunk said he would take me to the store after band.”

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“Practice is probably just holding over.” Keith fully turned to face Lance, dropping his pencil on the desk as his eyes skimmed Lance head-to-toe. “Are you sick?”

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“Allergies,” answered Lance, nodding miserably. He pulled a wadded tissue from his pocket and wiped at his nose. “Tell Hunk to text me when he gets back?”

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“Yeah, sure.”

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“Thanks.” Lance gave an awkward bob of his head and disappeared into the hallway. Keith hesitated as he turned back to his work; a fleeting thought had lodged itself in his head, making his brows knit in consternation as he struggled to push it aside.

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_No, no, no, I’m not doing that. I don’t owe this guy anything. I don’t care if he’s got stupid sniffles—_

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He continued to struggle with himself for a few seconds before, grousing under his breath, he vaulted out of his chair and into the hall where the latino was just disappearing into his own room. “Lance!”

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Lance’s head popped out of his doorway, looking a bit hesitant. “Yeah?”

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_This is the dumbest thing I’ve done since I spray-painted that water tower—_

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“I can take you, if you don’t mind riding a bike.”

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Surprise registered in Lance’s just as quickly as began to shake his head. “You don’t have to do that. Hunk was already going—”

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“I kind of owe you, after the other day.” When Lance still seemed unsure, Keith added, “It’s purely selfish. I’m trying to make myself feel better. Besides, didn’t Hunk just need black socks for band? I can get those. They’re like, two bucks.”

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Snorting, Lance mulled it over for a moment. “You know, that sounds great. Thanks, man. Let me grab my wallet real quick.”

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Keith snatched up his helmet, mesh jacket, and backpack, still hardly believing himself as he stepped into the hallway to wait for Lance.

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_That is the_ last _time I act on impulse. I can’t even handle small-talk. What am I_ doing—

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At least if the night went to hell he’d have something interesting to write Shiro about.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Be sure to let me know what you thought! I can't wait for the next chapter. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Be sure to let me know what you think. :)


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